


Pants. Sturdy. Denim. And Blue.

by mechadogmarron



Series: The Whos and Whats of Love [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Other, Weddings, are "blue jeans" a character?, character exploration, objectum sexuality, our comfy casual champion, probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechadogmarron/pseuds/mechadogmarron
Summary: Barry met the first love of his life at a Fantasy Target when he was 15, and she drove him to learn magic, to develop rituals, to eventually create the enchanted robes that would protect him and his team for over a century.(He met the second love of his life at an IPRE team gathering, but he was in his early fifties by then.)





	1. Pants. Sturdy. Denim. And Blue.

Barry Hallweather met the first love of his life when he was fifteen years old. He was in a Fantasy Walmart, in the big and tall section; it was his first time shopping there, and he was more than a little embarrassed, particularly given that he was more _big_ than he was _tall_.

At first sight, it was only a crush. He’d worn a lot of trousers in his life, but he could tell immediately just how wonderful she was. Her denim was thick, sturdy, not that cheap stuff that his thighs wore through in just a couple months despite his laid-back lifestyle. Her wash wasn’t too dark, wasn’t too pale; it was that perfect shade, the kind of mid-wash he preferred, the kind of blue denim-blue was _named_ after. Her pockets were roomy, big enough for everything he needed, even his Fantasy Kindle. Her stitching was clean, even. The last of her brand on the whole rack, and she just _happened_ to be in his size. It was destiny. The branding might’ve said Fighter Jeans, but he didn’t care. He’d never looked good in the classic wizard getup anyways.

The moment he tried her on, he knew she was the one. She wasn’t too tight, wasn’t too loose, best worn with a belt but still comfortable without one. The perfect length. When he looked at himself in the mirror he knew he looked good — not drop-dead beautiful, not gorgeous, but utilitarian, sturdy, hardworking. He didn’t fit the perfect picture of the ethereal, waifish wizard, and that was okay. He was tough, strong, a few points more than usual into Constitution. And she was exactly the same way. Built to last. She wasn’t dainty, wasn’t delicate, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a soft side. They were two sides of the same coin.

The time they spent together was precious. Being able to feel her at all times was something valuable, something precious, her constant presence. When he first applied to uni, she was there with him. When her cuffs became tattered he repaired them, holding back his sorrow, his knowledge that she wouldn’t live as long as him, that he wouldn’t have her someday.

He couldn’t accept that.

Barry had always been the wrong mix of absolutely fine with death and utterly terrified of it, with a “purely academic” interest in necromancy that he’d quickly learned to hide lest he attract the judgment of his peers and professors. He had enough of a sense of self-preservation not to try it — the servants of the Raven Queen were far more powerful than an undergrad. But there was no law against extending the life of that which wasn’t truly “living” in the first place, no rules that could prevent him from at least protecting her.

When he was practically shaking in his boots, trying to find the courage to tell his academic adviser what his senior project was for the Mixed Magical Arts program, she was the one who gave him the strength to fight on, to explain it. He couldn’t live forever, couldn’t give himself eternity, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make sure she would be safe, at least as long as he was around. It was perfect, practical and useful spellwork that exemplified how mixing the schools could bring about real value. It wasn’t _just_ enchantment magic, but some abjuration mixed in too, and even a bit of transmutation to keep everything together — and the school’s resources would be enough to actually make it work.

The adviser was impressed, if a little nervous about his ability to actually complete the project. The pants he experimented on were less precious to him, many of them cheap, threadbare things he’d gotten from classmates and thrift stores, but he still felt awful every time stitches came undone, every time fabric started to unravel itself. It was a sobering reminder of just how wrong this could go. He was messing with powerful forces, and trying to bend them to his will to help clothing last longer. But eventually clothing started getting sturdier, started stitching itself back together where it was torn, started repelling the dirt and mud he’d wade through while wearing it.

He didn’t cast it on her until it was perfected. But when he stood in front of the class, presenting just how much sturdier his test jeans had become, just how long-lasting his spellwork was, he was proud. Proud of his professor’s glowing review, proud of the way his adviser stopped talking taskmage careers and started talking grad school. Proud of the way companies were visiting him, talking about the practical applications of his work. More than proud, he was free, free of the fear she only had a few years left, free of the thought of being left alone.

He’d tried dating his classmates, still went out sometimes, but he never got the feeling they’d be okay with it, if they knew. It wasn’t like she wasn’t open to him seeing other people; it wasn’t like his love, boundless as it sometimes felt, was restricted to her and her alone. But she was important, and if his other partners couldn’t be okay with her he couldn’t be with them. For now, she was the only one for him.

Grad school felt almost frenetic, more practical magic, more protective enchantments. He started working on armoring, making leather and robes tougher than they were supposed to be. Took a couple levels in fighter, started brawling, a weird mix of warrior and mage. The whole time, she was there with him, comforting him when he defended his thesis, proud of him when he graduated.

He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

The marriage was informal, of course, just him and a few friends he’d mostly met online, officiated by a cleric-slash-bard named Pydge who played the violin for the dance shortly after. The name change was _not_ informal, but although his classmates and parents and pretty much everyone else would assume changing his name to Barry Bluejeans officially was a joke taken too far, he knew the truth. Over a century later, they’d call him the Lover, and they weren’t wrong; Barry was the type to love deeply and easily.

He was still wearing her twenty years later, still as enamored by her sturdy-yet-soft textiles as he was when he was fifteen. His students saw him as the fun professor, the goofy professor, a fair grader who enjoyed legitimately fun projects. When the IPRE approached him he was astounded that his work would’ve caught such important attention. Textile design, at first. The IPRE uniform needed to be sturdy, effective, provide protection against all the possibilities of other planes. Could breathing technology be worked in, could he ensure any particulates in the atmosphere would stay away, could he keep any sharp brambles from tearing the fabric and exposing skin? The work was all still very experimental, in its very early stages, but the projects they were working on would revolutionize interplanar travel, and they needed to be ready.

“Of course,” he told the recruiter. “It would be an honor. Do you have any drafts I could look at?”

The designers and scientists they brought in to work with him were incredible, the best in their fields, and even more bafflingly, they all listened to _him_. Took his input seriously. Called him “Mr. Bluejeans, sir” right up until he told them to just call him Barry. The work was hard but it was rewarding, thinking about the abjurational shielding in the hood, the transmutation spellwork to convert different atmospheres into something breathable despite not knowing what chemicals other atmospheres could possibly hold, the protection from heat and from cold and the _comfort_ to let people know that they were safe. The charmwork to keep them clean and free of mud, if people were away from the ship and couldn’t change lest the atmosphere get to them — not so different from the charms on his own beloved jeans. He led the team and they guided him, and at the end they developed it: a series of rituals to perform that could convert a bevy of raw materials and regents into stylish, comfortable protective suits, robes or jackets with matching pants, socks, and gloves.

The IPRE was impressed. Impressed enough to pick him as the science officer when the time for the first expedition came around, a solid decade after he’d initially started working on the robes, to go along and make sure the spellwork stayed active, to recast the rituals if local clothing needed to be acquired, to make observations about the environment alongside the journal-keeper. And really, he wasn’t the strangest choice, a well-loved and well-regarded professor with a diverse range of spellwork and decent close combat capabilities to match his impressive publication history. When he met his fellows he was nervous, but she was with him, and he knew he could do it.

Davenport, the captain. He seemed talented, sharp, devoted. He’d been training to pilot for longer than there’d actually been a ship. A no-nonsense kind of guy. They talked about the robe design, mostly, and the science behind the ship.

Lucretia, the journal keeper. She seemed almost impossibly young — young enough to be his daughter, if he’d ever settled down with a fellow human. Apparently she’d already taken notes for several test expeditions that had been involved in the selection process, and they’d been incredible. It was hard to make small talk with someone so much _younger_ than him without acting like he was her professor, but he managed somehow, and as soon as the topic turned to scientific observation it got very, very interesting.

Lup and Taako, the inseparable mages, both of whom had enjoyed very high charisma rolls. The topic of how he’d prepped the robes to handle the wearer casting that kind of intense evocation magic came up quite quickly, and turned into the charms to transmute the air, and before he knew it he was deep into mage talk with the two of them, grinning like a fool.

Merle, the ship’s cleric. A fellow old fart and a worshipper of Pan. He seemed serious enough at first, but it _quickly_ turned into joking around about God and the mission and the plants he was going to be growing on board to make sure they had a fresh supply of regents. Some of those jokes had him wondering just how much alike they were, but he wasn’t going to bring it up, and definitely not now. Maybe later. (Probably not.) In any case he was jovial, funny, and apparently an incredibly talented cleric, so they hit it off easy.

And finally Magnus, the ship’s fighter. Lucretia being so young had been weird, but she wasn’t direct combat staff. Magnus was just strange. Wasn’t there some more grizzled, talented combatant out there? Then again, Lup and Taako were both clearly plenty talented in combat, and he could hold his own; he knew clerics got some decent damage spells too, and even Lucretia apparently had a few levels in wizardry. Magnus seemed passionate, and his goofy laugh was infectious; as the fighter began talking about his dream plane, covered completely in dogs, Barry knew they’d made the right choice.

And when he stood on that stage with them the day before he left, she was with him too. Knowing he’d get to spend a whole year with these bright talented minds, his love with him every step of the way, well… he just didn’t see how anything could go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll put up Part 2 sometime in the next week or so, ft. more Lup!
> 
> Barry's last name is Bluejeans because he married a pair of blue jeans, and no one can tell me otherwise.


	2. Cycle 35

When everything went wrong, when they barely made their escape, it was only her comforting presence that kept him going. He needed to have strength now, he knew. For everything they’d lost, for everything that was happening, they didn’t have another option. Keep searching, keep running, and even if they couldn’t save every plane they could save a few of them.

The first plane, before they knew they would come back, he tried not to get too close to his crewmates, as charming as they all were, as well as they all vibed. He couldn’t really help himself, getting pulled into Lup and Taako’s adventures in Mongoose-translating, but he did his best not to get too attached, not to make himself too dependent. None of them really had a chance anymore, after all, and although he knew by the end of the year he’d take a Magic Missle for any of them he didn’t want to have to feel that kind of loss.

Not now, not when he was still grieving. His parents, his sisters, his _students_. Ansa had been so promising, so bright. Her work in smart textile design was going to absolutely revolutionize clothing for all of the transfiguration wizards — more than that, it was going to be a unified design, something that humans and dragonborn and elves and dwarves could all enjoy at once. Real, true, no-rituals-needed one-size-fits-all. And Kellen’s abjuration-enchantments were almost as good as his, even though they’d only been studying for six years; who knew what they would become? And beyond their accomplishments, just how much they’d enjoyed life, how much they’d enjoyed studying, how much they’d been like the kids he’d never had — he didn’t even know how to process it.

The moment he realized Magnus wasn’t on the ship was the worst of his life.

The moment he came back, black eye and all, wearing that goofy Magnus grin, had to be one of the best ones.

After that, it was easier to fall into a rhythm. He and Merle hit it off, the plant jokes inserting a little bit of levity into a not-so-great situation. Lucretia and Magnus might’ve been a bit young for him to really get buddy-buddy, but it was so easy to see his students in them, so easy to get protective. She might not’ve started developing her mage skills too much yet, but Barry could tell she had the makings of a fine abjurationist, maybe even an enchanter, and it was easy to talk about his life’s work with her, watching her jot down the details of the spells — a record of his life’s work. He and Davenport could talk work, and slowly he learned to fly the ship.

As for the twins, well, as wizards, it was only natural they’d work together well. Almost every plane the three of them would study together, learning the local spellwork. There was a plane where Fireball had become _Iceball_ , where fire spells were completely unknown, the residents of the plane golems of ice treading a great living sphere of luminescent snow, looking up at an empty, sunless sky. There was a plane where spellwork had replaced food. It was the four of them together, two elves, a human, and a well-loved pair of pants.

It took five years to call the two of them his best friends. It took ten years for him to realize how he was starting to feel about Lup, what the warmth in his chest was when she grinned, fire flowing from hand to hand like water from pitcher to glass. He hadn’t felt that way about anyone for years, not for anyone but his dearest jeans. It wasn’t a bad feeling, really. Jeans, she wasn’t the jealous type, understood full well how Barry was completely lovestruck by her even after all these years, how he stayed behind on the sixth cycle when a jailer separated the two of them and he couldn’t bear to leave without her.

He hadn’t been able to explain it, but the others had understood. “I can’t leave,” he had said, and it looked like Magnus was about to fight him, but Lup offered him a smile, waved goodbye with a _see you soon, Barold,_ like she didn’t quite understand but she didn’t need to to respect him. That was something precious on its own, one of the thousands of beautiful moments they’d all shared together. Respect, love, affection — even before he’d known there was a _romance_ part to all of it he’d known that was how he felt about every last one of his teammate. And his jeans understood. He loved her and she loved him; why would she be jealous? He wouldn’t be jealous if someone else loved her, if she loved someone else. Love was a priceless thing, after all.

And now he loved Lup, too.

He didn’t try to hide it, really, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable — the idea of being like _that_ made him sick. Even if she was into him, would she be okay with his other paramour? He told Taako about his crush, sitting out there on that beautiful beach, and he was cool with it, said Lup was cool with it, but Taako didn’t know about his jeans.

On cycle 35, though, things reached a head for the first time.

He’d actually slept in pajamas for once, so he could hold her in his arms, and when he woke up, she wasn’t there.

He knew the culprit in an instant — mostly because she’d jacked Magnus’s favorite sweater last week. He knew she didn’t mean anything by it, knew it was just a sign of how comfortable she’d become with him. Intellectually, he knew it would be okay, but the spike of fear at all that was left of his old family disappearing was enough to make him feel physically ill.

He rushed to the twin’s lounge. It was an early cycle invention: Taako had transmuted his bed into a bunk and they’d converted Lup’s cabin into a place to hang around, sizzle it up a little, catch their best attempts to duplicate their home plane’s TV. Taako was out; Lup, however, was in the kitchen, mixing up a batch of her favorite Invocations-toasted bell peppers with hummus. She was wearing a lovely yellow skirt, no jeans.

“H-hey, Lup,” he said, trying to sound calm.

“Hey Barold, what’s up?”

“Have you seen my jeans?”

“Hmmm… Nope, can’t say I have!” She smiled, bright and authentic, but after twenty-four cycles he immediately recognized as the Taako-and-Lup Patented Goof-and-Grist Grin. She had his jeans.

“It’s not funny, Lup. I know it sounds goofy, but those jeans are really important to me.”

“They’re jeans, Barold. What could be so special about that?”

Chill a guy as he was, he was surprised by how _irritated_ the line of questioning made him feel, but he brushed it off. It wasn’t fair to take out his feelings on Lup (or anyone from the Starblaster, for that matter) — he knew the twins liked to jack people’s clothes, he should’ve let them know that his jeans were off limits, that _she_ was off-limits. “They’re all I have left of home, other than you guys. Well, and the robes, I guess, but I’ve had those jeans since I was fifteen.”

“Since you were fifteen? Barold, you were like fifty years old when we left. How did you get a pair of pants to last thirty-five years?” She shook her head. “Wait, wait, you specialize in textile spellwork. I don’t even know why I asked that. Still, they’re just jeans. I mean, I won’t take them again, I know how important things can be, and we can go grab them again, but Taako and I, and the rest of the Starblaster, we’re real people, we love you. You have more than just jeans with you from home.”

“She loves me too.” He didn’t even mean to say it, but he couldn’t help himself. Lup deserved to know, anyways. He couldn’t hide it anymore.

“Hmm? Who’s she? You got some local girl? What’s that have to do with anything?”

“No, no, no, not a — not a person, in the traditional sense. My jeans, I mean. I love her — um, love them.”

“Oh, I get it. Anthropomorphizing and shit, that’s cool. I’m sorry, I didn’t —”

“No, no, I don’t think you get it. I’m sorry to interrupt, I don’t want to be rude or anything, and I value your perspective, but I’m not anthropomorphizing, necessarily. It’s not that I think she’s a human being or anything, but I love her for what she is. The best pair of jeans ever made, who fits me perfectly, who’s rugged and tough but still has a soft side, who was there for me when I wasn’t too comfortable with my body and just wanted something that would work for _me_. It’s not like I didn’t have friends or anything, it’s not because I was a total loner, it’s just that she’s the one I love. And I think — I think she loves me too. And even if she doesn’t have a soul in the conventional sense of possessed swords and stuff, I think she has a spirit of her own. Read some really interesting necroartificing material about that, back in the day.”

“Huh.” Lup shrugged. “So she’s like, your girlfriend? Your pants, I mean. That’s why you were like, cuddling the pants. When you were sleeping. I guess I probably should’ve taken that as a cue not to steal them — uh, her.”

“Yeah, probably. She’s my wife, actually.”

“Holy shit, is that why your last name is Bluejeans?”

“Yeah. My maiden name’s Hallweather.”

“Oh dang, I’m sorry. I can’t say I get it, but like, I don’t need to understand to know how important she is to you. Just a second.” She put the plate of peppers down, dashing over to the mountain of clothes that had taken over the far corner of the room; it didn’t take much digging to produce her. His beloved jeans.

He took her from Lup carefully, hugged her close to his chest. As short as the time without her had been, he almost cried in relief anyways. It was the longest they’d been apart in decades — in his days as a professor he’d occasionally been required to wear the dreaded slacks, but this century he only took her off occasionally, mostly when he wanted to hold her or work on her charms.

“Man, you really do love those jeans. Well, that’s not on me to judge. Uh, this is probably an awkward question, but just to be clear, we did, like, have some moments earlier, right? Like, kind of just… fitting together? Like we’re already a thing, in some sense, even if it’s not formal or anything. Like we don’t need that kind of formality. Is that just, like, a casual thing, or —”

“No, no, no. I mean, if you want a casual thing, we can definitely try that, but — but I didn’t think that’s what he had. What we have. She and I aren’t, like, monogamous. Love’s a really beautiful thing, I don’t see the point in only feeling it for one person. I’m not looking to replace her or anything, and I know that I should’ve mentioned her earlier, but I wasn’t really even sure you were into me and not just, you know, being yourself. Like, I don’t think Taako’s into me, but he sure gets touchy-feely.”

“Taako? Nah, probably not. He’s into, like, the bard type. If you want to be his man, you gotta know some pretty sick lute solos. Not just Fantasy Wonderwall, the good stuff, I mean.”

“I like Fantasy Wonderwall.” He grinned. “But, um, yeah. I mean, I definitely like you, like, romantically? I love everyone on the Starblaster, but, like, it’s all different kinds of love. Even if I was into Merle, the dude’s one love is obviously plants.”

“You’re not wrong. Okay, well, the pants thing really isn’t a problem. Is it going to bother you if I end up wanting someone else in my life, too? There isn’t really anyone I’m into right now, mostly because it’s not like I’m getting attached to residents, but, like, you know. I’d like to think this’ll all end eventually.”

“Oh, no, not at all. Love’s a really beautiful thing, you know? I think it would be beautiful.”

“Well, glad to hear it. Wait, I’ve got another idea.”

“What’s that?”

“What if we just… _don_ _’t_ tell Taako. I mean, everyone on the Starblaster is already really close, so if we don’t, like, kiss in front of him, he’ll never know. We’ve got to spring it on him in some totally ridiculous way. It’s the ultimate prank. He’ll never live it down.”

“He won’t, like, be super upset or anything?”

“Nah, he’ll think it’s funny, trust me.”

“Well, alright.”

“Awesome. Now how about you put on your wife and we all enjoy some pepper roast together?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get to the Lup x Umbrastaff in this chapter, but I felt like this was a great place to leave it off, so... I'll post another one some time next week! I finished my Devilman fanfic, so I should have more time to write for this, wrist problems permitting (maybe I'll try dictation). Shout out to TAZ Transcribed (http://tazscripts.tumblr.com/tazscripts); being able to go check plane details was helpful for this.
> 
> In episode 64, they talk about all the wonderful little moments in Lup and Barry's love. I'd like to think this is one of those, and one in Barry and his jeans' love as well. I tried to keep this kind of funny, because TAZ is at heart a comedy, too, but I don't have a lot of comedy experience. :)


	3. Legato

_It’s all going to be okay. You’ve rehearsed this dozens of times_.

Barry was a chill guy, the kind of man who would wake up naked in a cave with a weird necromancy pod and three strangers and assume he’d just had a _good_ night. That didn’t mean that walking up onto that cage, hand in hand with Lup, wasn’t nerve-wracking.

“Don’t stress it,” Lup whispered.

He looked at her, saw her easy-going smile. Reached down to rub his hands against his beloved jeans, her comforting texture helping him to relax. Even if this went terrible, well, five of them had already won access to the Light of Creation. His and Lup’s love was stronger than a bad duet; his and his jeans’ love was similarly powerful.

And frankly, it really couldn’t be any worse than Merle’s erotic dubstep-jazz interpretive dance.

Smiling, Barry sat down at the bench before the perfectly-tuned grand piano one of the Conservatory staff had wheeled out for them — a conjured piano was fine for practice, not so much for exhibition. Lup took her place at his side, standing, taking her violin into her hands.

He looked at her, and she nodded.

_Salut d_ _’Amour_ didn’t feature terribly technical piano, but it was responsive, an ebb and flow; he began, gentle, and she followed, weaving a beautiful, graceful melody. There was no Fantasy Elgar on this plane, no sheet music, but he had a shaky recording of it among his personal effects - Pydge on the violin, Gal on the piano, playing at his wedding. The sound brought back memories of those days, of dancing with his love, of dancing with his friends, of being surrounded by people who understood his love and didn’t care at all. There had been six of them, less than there were on the Starblaster, and they’d taken turns playing the instruments they’d known and dancing around to the tunes.

He and Lup had listened to that old video a hundred times, figuring out the notes as best they could, improvising where they needed. And now they were playing together. Ebb and flow, back and forth. Lup drew the bow across the strings and true beauty flowed out; he struck each key and weaved his love into hers, forming a musical tapestry. His wedding, his confession, her response, all bright in his mind — and beyond that all those little moments, when they’d cast together, when they’d worked together. It was an infectious kind of joy, the realization that he loved her, that he loved them both, that they both loved him, that there were no limits.

It was hard to hold back his laughter, hard to keep the jubilation in check, hard to keep from speeding up. He caught Lup’s grin, felt his other lover all around him.

The moment they finished, that final pull of the bow, the last few keys, he let it all out. Lup joined him, her laughter just as beautiful as it had been the first time he’d heard it (incidentally, moments after he introduced himself as Professor Barry Bluejeans). They took a quick bow, and then they were off, not even bothering with the results. However it went, whatever anyone thought, they had created something precious, something that showed every last bit of love they shared. The sound reverberated in their heads, a gift from the voidfish, as they rushed through the campus, one of his hands in hers and the other against his jeans.

It didn’t take long for them to find themselves on a hill overlooking the main hall of the conservatory, hand in hand, still laughing from the freedom and beauty of it all. Everyone had heard, everyone had seen, and he didn’t even care. He’d always been quiet about his relationships before, but now that he had the option, now that he understood what it really felt like, he couldn’t help but want to scream it from the hill. _I_ _’m Barry Bluejeans, I have the two best partners in the world, and I love them both more than you can possibly imagine!_

“I want to tell everyone on the Starblaster about her. I mean, you two, but I can’t imagine they didn’t figure that out. Even Magnus isn’t stupid, just goofy. Do you think anyone on the Starblaster’s gonna be weird about it?”

“I mean, shitty weird about it, no. Any kind of change is weird. They’re gonna wonder why you don’t wear a wedding ring.”

“We weren’t supposed to wear jewelry during our travels, remember? I mean, we know that’s bullshit now, but we didn’t back then. I suppose the Hunger ate them up.”

“You should get a new pair. There are some real skilled jewelers here, and our ship did just sweep the Conservatory gala. We have like a week and a half before go-time, and retrieving the light shouldn’t take long. Actually… you know, how would you feel about two pairs?”

His heart beat faster; he blushed. “Um, are you —”

“Yeah. I mean, if we hadn’t gone on this whole adventure by now, you’d be dead! Or at least really, _really_ old. We don’t know how many cycles we have, we don’t know how much time we have, so why not celebrate? Next time we get an easy plane we can throw a big-ass party, invite all our friends. Seven whole people! I mean, that’s a real party!”

“Hey, my first wedding had six, that’s up by one.”

“Yeah, but that’s _not_ counting your wife. It’s still the same number of guests.”

“Still.”

“No, Barold, this is going to be a great scene. You’ll have a super great tux coat, and like, jeans. Super classy. I’ll do the whole wedding dress, but like, convertible. The outer layer falls off, and bam, denim. Way easier to dance in.”

“Oh my God.”

“I mean, I’m celebrating becoming Lup Bluejeans. Which is the best last name ever, hot damn. Even if us elves actually had last names, I’d take that. I guess I’m really marrying your other lady too, huh? That’s going to be interesting. Well, if you’re down. I guess you never said yes.”

“Of course! I can’t wait. I love you, you know. Do you think Taako’s gonna be okay with his sister marrying a married man?”

“Dude, Taako’s gotten married, like, a dozen times. He can’t judge me.”

“What? He doesn’t — he didn’t leave anyone behind, did he? I mean — the Hunger didn’t widow him or anything like that.”

“Oh god no. They’ve never lasted more than a week. You know how it is, go to Fantasy Vegas, have a little too much to drink, wake up the next morning married to a good-looking bard-rogue multiclass who knows all your favorite hipster bullshit songs but unfortunately has zero other redeeming factors, like, at all. Even when he dates it’s always get in too deep, inevitably fall apart.”

“A _dozen_ times?”

“At least, and that’s just in our last century on Earth alone. He’s the kind of guy who brings a moving van to the third date.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You know, date one, stay up late whispering sweet nothings. Date two, hot sex. Date three, married. Date four, divorced. This is Taako, and tonight we’re speedrunning the game of _loooove_. It’s easy to joke about now, but he used to get real broken up about them for a couple months. After that, bam. Like it never happened. He’s gotten a lot colder since the cycles started, but he loves you just as much as I love you. It’s in a different way, but he’s gonna be delighted. And I mean, he’s pretty clingy about his shit. Even if he doesn’t totally get the pants thing, I don’t think it’s going to be completely foreign to him.”

“I guess. I just hope it goes well, you know? I love everyone on the Starblaster, I don’t want them to be weird about the whole thing. Not that I think any of them would be, like, _shitty_ , but I don’t want to be assholes. So, fiances, huh? We’d better go find rings.”

They ended up laying on the hill for a little while before heading into the hustle and bustle of the campus market, over to where the jewelery students worked. Jeweling was an _art_ at Legato, and not one taken lightly; each gem was cut with astounding precision, the rings themselves forged with cautious passion, often with complicated patterns of vines, animal motifs, and smaller stones. The one that caught their eye was beautiful, made of a clear, glassy material that had been filled with ruby dust and veins of copper.

“Oh, hey! Congrats on being selected — it’s a huge honor! Your performance was breathtaking.” The journeyman who greeted them from the booth was a heavyset gnome who wore a brilliant smile. “I’m Marv. I had my first presentation accepted six months ago, at the last event — you might remember it. Looking for something commemorative? Brooches are very in right now — I’ve got the classic motifs, but I’ve also got some more modern stuff, more out there. Fashion-forward.”

“Oh, we’re looking for wedding rings,” Barry said, grinning.

“Oh, well, congratulations again! Good a way as any to celebrate! You thinking the same rings, or opposite themes, or…?”

“Well,” Lup said, radiant as ever, “we need three. I think all the same would be nice, don’t you, Barold?”

“Oh, sure, sure.”

“Oh, well, congratulations for a third time! Double tying the knot, huh? I have the traditional gold bands, including in different knot designs, and chrysolite or chrysolite powder suspensions are symbolic yet colorful classics, but really I think you probably know what you want better than I do.”

“How about this one?” Lup asked, gesturing towards the one that had caught both of their eyes. It was well-crafted, clearly a masterwork — not at all typical of a wedding ring, but any evocationist worth their wand knew what ruby powder meant. Eternal flame, eternal love.

“I think it’s beautiful. How much?”

“Unenchanted, 2000 pieces each, but I’ll cut you a deal on three. The 5000-piece purse from the conservatory will do just fine.”

Barry took another look. Lup loved the rings. He loved the rings. He got the feeling his other lover loved the rings, and one of them would look beautiful hanging from her belt loop. It wasn’t like they had a use for Legato money anyways.

“We’ll take them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, projecting my relationship problems on pre-IPRE Taako cuz I know it all works out in the end: this is nice  
> Me, projecting my stims onto Barry: this is niceeeeeee
> 
> I'm not sure how much longer this is going to be, since it's basically just a sequential one-shot collection, without a real plot, so I guess I'll just keep going until I've covered all the scenes I want to! Expect another update next week :) Also, shoutout to Hatch, who offered up the nickname twojeans for this shipping! 
> 
> As always, you can catch me on tumblr at mecha-dog-marron! If you're reading this and you're curious about human-object relationships, check out the About OS page on OSP!: https://os-positive.tumblr.com/about


	4. The Wedding

“So you’re married to a pair of pants.” Taako gave Barry one of his many patented, exclusive Taako Looks. Two more and Barry would’ve collected them all. Nice.

“Um, yep. That’s how I got my name.”

“And you _never_ mentioned it? Dude, rude.”

“Lup told me you’re a dodeca-divorcee.”

“She did?” He groaned. “Well, that totally wrecks the direction I was going to go with this. Look, I’ll be real — you and Lup are fantastic together. Absolutely love it. Some kinda Fantasy Disney heart-eyes shit, almost makes me sick, mostly ‘cuz it’s still weird knowing your sister’s getting down and dirty with someone. I’ll be honest, I’m even excited to cook for your wedding.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad to hear it, Taako. You’re like a brother to me, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I don’t want to give you the shovel talk, because, like, A.)? Lup is _way_ more terrifying than I am. Us transfigurationists can do some pretty cool shit, make people young again and heal folks and shit like that, but evocations? That’s one big old pile of explosions. And B.), you’re pretty much a brother to me, and I don’t think you’d ever do wrong by her. But I do want to know — you really love these pants, right? You don’t think they’re more important than she is, do you? Like, you don’t love them more? Because let me tell you, Lup is worth way more than anyone, pants or person.” The _even me_ was unspoken.

“I don’t love either of them more. They’re both precious to me. I don’t — I don’t think love is a contest, Taako. I don’t love either of them more than I love you, either. It’s all just different kinds of love, and different folks to love. I can’t rank everyone and everything I care about. The whole Starblaster is more important to me than I ever thought was possible.”

Taako sighed. “Ugh, you always make everything so sappy, Barold. Look, I don’t quite understand what Lup sees in you, from like, a physical perspective — you’re not that hot, _kinda_ old for a human, and apparently already married. That’s a bit of a dealbreaker for ol’ Taako, but you know, I do me and Lup does Lup. You might have a great personality, but like, so does Merle, and I’m not going to fuck Merle. He might be sexy to onions, but not to this elf. The Starblaster doesn’t have _any_ hot dudes at all, actually, ‘cept for me, and unfortunately I don’t know Clone so sex with myself is right out. I guess you’re probably in the top half.”

“Thanks?” Taako had a way of rambling off into kind of insulting tangents. He’d spent at least half an hour that morning blasting his sister over her outfit in what had started over an argument about boysnberry syrup. It didn’t really bother Barry, not when he was the target and definitely not when it was about his appearance; he didn’t care if his brother-in-law thought he was a 6 at best. Just as well, really.

“You’re very welcome. In any case, the whole thing isn’t — it’s not obvious to me. But what is obvious to me is just how much she loves you. She’s crazy about you, Barold. Lup’s not like I am — I mean, I get into dudes, it doesn’t go well, I break up, whatever. Lup, I don’t think she’s dated more than a couple guys in her whole life. Definitely not anywhere near as seriously as she’s into you. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m happy to see you two getting married. And if it goes wrong, uh, I’m pretty sure you can beat me in a fight, and also you would just revive next cycle anyways, so maybe don’t do that.”

“Thanks, Taako. Don’t stress it — I’d rather die than hurt her.” He tried not to die for her when he could avoid it, in return for the same courtesy from her, but they’d both played the martyr before. Not as often as Magnus and _certainly_ not as often as Merle, but often enough.

“Yeah, yeah. So what I’m thinking is: big cake, seven tiers, right?”

“There are literally going to be seven people at this wedding. That’s a tier per person.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be trick as fuck. I’ll conjure the ingredients, so the extra’ll just poof away, easy breezy. Nice cake topper. You can even be in denim.”

“I mean, I’m getting married in denim.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe Lup’s marrying you. This is the worst.”

“My last name is literally Bluejeans, I am literally married to blue jeans, what did you expect? She was talking about dressing to match, but I’m not sure if she was joking.”

Taako glared at him. Unfortunately for Barry’s collection of Patented Taako Looks, the Taako Glare was incredibly common. “You’re corrupting her. Well, I’m not doing a denim-themed cake, so don’t ask.”

“No, I was thinking more… a magic-themed cake. Maybe a fire-themed cake. It would match our rings.”

“Oh dude, I just got the sickest idea. First tier — cake. Second tier — fire. Third tier — cake. Fourth tier — more fire. Fifth tier, that good good cake. Sixth tier — you guessed it, _more fucking fire_. Seventh tier — probably cake, but who cares? Three whole tiers of fire. Just put it in a tier cage, fit the cakes over the metal. Nice. Color the cake tiers copper, maybe do some of those geometric black shapes.” Taako grinned. “Very, very Lup.”

It sounded, frankly, completely inappropriate for a wedding. And totally bizarre. And absolutely gorgeous. Barry grinned. “That sounds perfect, Taako. You’ll want to talk it over with Lup, but I can’t see her saying no.”

In the end, Lup was ecstatic, and increasingly convoluted plans for the flaming cake were drafted. The twins always toed the line between dramatic and tacky, flashy and tasteless, making an art form of the over-the-top and ridiculous. It was one of the things plain old Barry, generic-to-a-T, loved about them both. Wedding planning with the two of them was ridiculously fun, and for all his confusion and blustering Taako was clearly _into_ the idea of finally not being the one in the tux (or, for that matter, the dress). Always the bride and never the bridesmaid wasn’t really any better than the other way around.

Barry grinned. Brother-in-law. That had a good ring to it.

It took half a dozen planes to actually get around to the wedding — planes that were way too hostile for partying, planes where they spent the whole time searching for the Light, one particularly dramatic plane where he shoved Lup out of the way of an incoming Disintegrate and found himself quite dead. Taako had been for the wedding the whole time, but he at least stopped making weird comments about Barry’s decision to get married in denim after that — well, mostly. You couldn’t fault Taako for being himself.

But then they settled on the plane of steel.

It was a peaceful, idyllic place. The land was largely inhospitable to organic life, being comprised entirely of long, flat surfaces of, well, steel, but souls found a way — gentle giants made of iron wandered the glossy land. The seawater was red from oxide, full of massive, ancient fish, living kind lives in the gentle waves; their scales were made of solid metal, their bodies lit by pure magic. There was no predation, no aggression, just beautiful creatures gaining their life’s energy from the magic of their homeworld. The whole place seemed more like a beloved invention than a natural occurrence, but there was no evidence any sentient life had ever lived there, let alone advanced mages, no lost tomes or ancient ruins or even petroglyphs carved into the surface of the earth.

The Light of Creation fell nearby, and without plants to provide cover or other humans to jealously hide it away, it was found within days. There was no local culture to study, no spellwork to learn. What there was was plenty of time for Taako to throw the biggest party seven people could possibly manage. As a Lup-and-Taako classic, it couldn’t really be said to have a specific _theme_ , outside of “cool and awesome shit”, but that didn’t matter; Barry contributed as best as he could, but keeping up with Taako when he got into something was a task best left to his family.

“So did you plan his weddings?” Barry asked Lup curiously one night, after a long day of drafting rituals for proper wedding attire.

“Oh, Christ, no. Look, I love my brother — he’s everything to me. But I would not want to get between him and his plans for the Big Day. Dude’s a total bridezilla. Well, groomzilla. Me, I couldn’t care less as long as we’ve got good food, and that’s pretty much a given when you’ve got our family on the line. How’s the clothing going?”

“It would be going a lot better if anyone on the Starblaster understood even the basics about clothes. I say, hey, you need a formal outfit, Magnus asks if he can wear a sleeveless tux. What even is a sleeveless tux?”

“Hey, if you were as stacked as Magnus, you’d want to show those puppies off. He _is_ a fighter, that’s just the way they are. What are you doing for him?”

“I’m making him a reasonably nice blazer and a short-sleeved button-up. He can take the blazer off and show off his arms, problem solved. The trick is making the sleeves rip-proof, because you know he’s gonna try to tear them off. Then you’ve got Merle, who’s really supposed to be in his clerical gear, but he didn’t actually bring them, and you’re not really supposed to transfigure old clothes into holy vestments.”

“Pan not into that?”

“He says Pan wouldn’t give a shit, but I still feel weird about it. I know Merle and Pan have kind of a casual thing going on, but… Then we started talking about fabric, and he felt the need to inform me that since my jeans are made of cotton denim, I’m really into plant necrophilia.”

“Classic Merle. I’m pretty sure Taako has like five different outfits picked out. He’s gonna be swapping outfits the whole time…”

Eventually, though, despite all the drama, it did come together — and ten months into the year, he found himself standing next to Lup on that podium, his hands rubbing nervously against the fabric of his other love, Merle behind them in conjured (but at least hand-decorated) vestments. Magnus had begrudgingly accepted the button-up/blazer combo, a classic wedding outfit. Davenport and Lucretia, in a formal captain’s outfit and a lovely yet conservative blue dress respectively, had both dressed in ways that were classy, yet appropriate. Taako, both best man and maid of honor, had _not,_ but _had_ managed to incorporate both red and white into an outfit that walked the line between trashy and classy.

He was also already crying, despite the fact that they hadn’t even really started yet.

“Is Taako okay?”

“Don’t worry, Barold, he’s just like this. Hit it, Merle.”

“My friends, we are gathered here today to see our dear companions Barry Bluejeans and Lup joined in holy matrimony before this planar system’s Pan. Hopefully all of the planar systems’ Pans, but I’m not quite sure how that works. Over our long journey, they have grown together, fought together, and learned together, and they’ve built something together that’s bigger and more beautiful than words can describe.

When I first met Lup, I knew she was something special, and not only because she was introduced to me as the most powerful evocation wizard ever to grace our homeworld. She had spark, she had pizazz, she had class. She had a heart full of love and a gentle spirit.” Taako was audibly bawling. Lup was considering casting Silence.

“When I met Barry Bluejeans here, well, I knew I was meeting a kindred spirit. He was a fellow middle-aged guy. A talented wizard, a master of way more schools of magic than a cleric like me has any business thinking about. He thought my plant jokes were funny — now there’s a rarity. It was obvious he really cared about the expedition, that he really wanted to keep us safe. And I saw him put himself at risk to do it, to die for the rest of us, time and time again.

“As far as I’m concerned, Barry and Lup are two of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met, folks who really deserve the best. Luckily they found each other. I think we’ve all borne witness to just how strong their bond has become in these decades we’ve spent together. Normally, I’d bore the whole audience with at _least_ ten minutes of sappy readings, but here’s the long and short of what Pan tells us: Love is a beautiful thing, the heartbeat of Spring and the soul of the world. That we can love together, that we can laugh together, is the greatest blessing of them all and the highest gift the Gods have given us. That, above all else, is worth celebrating. And today, we’re doing just that.

“We clerics often say that marriage isn’t a vow to be taken lightly, and that’s true. It’s a lifetime commitment, one of the few things I believe we carry with us into the Astral Plane. But love is a light and free thing, and all the pomp and circumstance and solemnity in the world can’t hold it down. It breaks its chains, it overflows its cup. Marriage is a conscious choice to always make time for it, to celebrate it a little bit every day. Marriage isn’t about us defining love — marriage is about letting love define us.” Merle looked over and nodded.

“Barry,” Lup started, “we’ve made a lot of journeys together. I’ve already been with you in sickness and in health; death has already parted us. But we’ve made it work. I don’t know how long we’ll have, how many years, but I want to spend every last one of them with you. All of your weaknesses, all of your strengths, all of your beauties and flaws, I want every one of them in my life. I don’t know who else will come into my life, who else I’ll care about. I can’t say you’re the only one I’ll ever love, but I can say I’ll always love you, and when I think of the other one you love, the feeling that fills my heart isn’t jealously — it’s joy at knowing there’s someone else in your life who understands how I feel about you. I love you with my whole heart, Barry. And by making this vow, and taking you as my husband, I want to say — you will always be absolutely priceless to me.”

“Lup,” Barry replied, “you’re my best friend. Every morning I get to wake up with you feels like a miracle. In this long journey, I’ve often felt alone, often felt overwhelmed by the weight of what we all left behind. But you’ve always been there at my side. You’ve made this escape feel like something worth celebrating. I don’t know how many more planes we’ll visit, don’t know how long these old bones will last if we ever do settle down for real. But until I’m laid down to my final rest, I want to spend every one of my lives with you. Love isn’t a wine you pour a little of for everyone you meet — love is eternal and limitless. I can’t say you’re the only one I love, but by making this vow, and taking you as my wife, I want to say — there is no end to my love for you.”

Merle nodded. “When we love, we let our hearts bloom together, as two trees grown into one, as fruit and bee. As long as we have that bond, nothing can tear us apart. Do you, Lup, take Barry Bluejeans as your husband under the grace of the Gods?”

“I do.”

Barry met her eyes, smiled. “And do you, Barry Bluejeans, take Lup as your wife under the grace of the Gods?”

“Then, by the power of Pan, I pronounce you husband and wife!” He clapped both of them on the back. “You may now kiss the bride!”

Lup wrapped her arms around him, pulled him close to kiss him, her hands in the pockets of his jeans, and he leaned in to meet her. The sense of connection, of being loved and more importantly _loving_ so absolutely and entirely that not even the two most wonderful, perfect ones in the whole world could contain it all, filled his heart.

They only pulled apart when Taako wolf-whistled, and then, the two loves of his life at his side, his five other best friends right there with him, Barry celebrated the night away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I initially promised Lup x The Umbra Staff, but I felt like this was a really wonderful place to end this story since it really finishes the character arc I've been developing (right after saying I wasn't sure last week, I know :P). That said, I still intend to write more in this universe and for these ships, including at least something that's Blue Jeans x Barry Bluejeans x Lup x The Umbra Staff! I might just take a break to write a little bit of Upsy or some Davenport x Starblaster or something first. Or maybe even Taakitz. Who knows. Maybe all of them at once. I also want to write Barry's first wedding at some point! Might as well ride this "actually really enjoying writing" train as far as it'll go! :P
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed reading! I'll try to have something new posted sometime next week, but I might need to take a break because I'm studying for a job interview :)
> 
> Also, I hope this isn't too sappy or comes off as ignoring the original ship in this fic - Barry has two beautiful wives and he loves them both! As an arospec person who's only ever really been to their sister's wedding, I don't exactly have Wedding Proficiency, but I'm pretty happy with how this turned out!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll put up Part 2 sometime in the next week or so, ft. more Lup!
> 
> Barry's last name is Bluejeans because he married a pair of blue jeans, and no one can tell me otherwise.


End file.
